The Silver Serpent Society. Chapter Two.

The overpowering stench hits as I slip under the police tape and step into the squalid flat.Blood and gore splattered on peeling floral wallpaper like a Pollack painting. In the narrow kitchen the victim lays splayed unnaturally across cheap linoleum, arms and legs twisted in ways that turn my stomach. Sergeant Callahan stands grim-faced, filling me in on details while uniforms mill about uselessly.

"Female victim, mid-20s. No ID on the body yet but neighbours described her as a quiet loner, kept odd hours. Never saw visitors." I scan the horrific scene, bile rising in my throat. The precision of the cuts, the deliberateness with which organs were removed and displayed. And the face...mercifully frozen in a deadly scream even as the monster robbed the victim's eyes from their sockets.

My pulse quickens, mouth running dry. The markings, the surgical cruelty - could it be? A younger cop retches loudly breaking my momentary paralysis. I grab Callahan by the sleeve - "The Glasgow Ghoul? Tell me honestly sergeant, could this be his work?" He hesitates then nods grimly. My greatest failure come back to haunt me from the grave.

I step outside to light a cigarette with shaking hands. Visions of mangled female forms from crime scenes past, the taunting letters carved into their skin, my own rookie self standing helpless... I take a swig from my flask desperate to drown the ghosts clawing up my throat.

Just then the medical examiner emerges, Dr. Patel, looking grave. Please, have a look at this." Leading me to the victim she indicates intricate symbols etched crudely into the torso. "These incisions follow no anatomical logic Inspector. And I found trace amounts of bizarre hallucinogens and plant toxins in her blood."

Before this nightmare can fully register, a stranger appears slipping clumsily under the police line. He cuts a bizarre figure - long grey hair, coke-bottle glasses askew, dressed in a too-small tweed suit bunched over a skeletal frame. "Inspector! I am an expert of occult history and artefacts at the city university." He hands me a card printed on yellowing paper stock, then clasps my wrist with cold bony fingers.

"Inspector, you must listen! What you see here is the work of immensely powerful dark forces, mystical entities perhaps centuries old!" His eyes peer at me intensely. "Forces tied I believe...to the secrets that have long haunted you from the past." I yank my hand away, anger flaring to mask the unease provoked by this strange little man.

As officers drag away the odd professor, my mobile rings from an unknown number. I hesitate then gruffly answer, "Detective Inspector Smith here." An electronically modulated voice rumbles, "Welcome back old friend. I have unfinished business and scores to settle...the fun can begin again!" My pulse roars in my ears...that name that has shadowed my every failure. The Glasgow Ghoul! They chuckle then continue, "Tell me Inspector, do I have your attention now? Good... because I'm just getting started!"

The line goes dead and I grip my phone white-knuckled, breaths coming ragged. The demon I've wrestled for decades has returned to turn this city into a slaughterhouse once again. I drain the last fiery mouthful from my flask steeling my nerves. Not this time. You'll have me to reckon with.